Roleplay : Group : The Carrendar Dynasty

On the Wings of Eagles
Writer : ULNamelessXMarich



The backstory to Michael Marich. It’s details describe the events that brought him his grey nature. Where his dark power came from, the reasoning for the “chip on his shoulder”, and how he got away rom his homeland.

-Screaming abound in the metal city. Why? It was quite clear, the ground, it was quaking, and the buildings shook with it. The whole city was ablaze, and riots and chaos was everywhere. The reason? A man, jet black hair like oil, and a suit of business. This man bore not a black tie, but a red and black spotted one. His face, the man’s, was contorted evilly. Small humanoid fangs baring through the curled upward lips. Though they were red from a recent feeding, it was clear the very look did not bode well, simply by how unnatural the appearance would be. But it wasn’t that it was unnatural for the man. It was part of this politician-like man. He simply gazed down at the city of Atlantis below. Thousands of spires and towers made of an odd blue metal, smoother than silk, were also ablaze and hardly even damaged at all. The spire; this evil appearing man had his gaze from was the tallest, only one point five times higher than the Empire State building itself. But down below, is where it was at, down below was the reason that man was up there.-

-Amidst the chaos and turmoil of riots and destruction below, there was a group of renegades, powerhouses, and concrete mages. One of them was cornered by the falling debris, yet had to make sure his subject’s were being seen and shown to safety. He had just helped a few out of a burning spire and directed them to the nearest port, as there were only three of them. They left in haste for it, more than likely hoping they could still get out. He knew by now he had made a mistake to the other Captains about the Fairway. He knew with all the burning of the spires now, it would more than likely flood and yet he had to face the consequence of that action and some advisement of the actions to take, while at the same time fighting off the crime of blind ambition he had suffered at the meetings of the nations. He alone knew it was his fault that this had happened, but he had to make sure they were safe. He could not save the city, or the place they once called home, but he could make up for it.

-He kept his mission for the citizen’s safeties up, walking around and sometimes even through the wreckage of a few badly damaged and sometimes deteriorated spires of blue metal. As he did go through the burning city so blindly out of kindness and faith of others still being alive, he made a route to the nearest port himself, hoping he’d meet some of the other officers on the way. He also hoped he’d save a few and lead them with him on the way.-

-Most of the spires were still standing, despite the burning inferno the city had been turned into. He hadn’t had much luck, not sight of too many a soul. But he kept his hopes up, despite what was to come. He couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but he knew it hadn’t been long. If there was lesson in his royal schooling he never got, it was that he could never comprehend the clocks, and the mental time frames. He was never able to. None could even accomplish teaching him, not even himself. It suited him fine then, considering he didn’t really need it then. It was always peaceful, but now, a time when he might need it arose, and he hadn’t the skill or know how to use it. These kinds of thoughts ran through his own head in the same way his feet ran through the streets. His monochromatic robe flapping behind him and his boots, made of some alchemically enhanced rubber, banged liked gongs on the ground as he ran. ~An intersection!~ He thought, maybe he’d get out of here after all, though hope was looking slim. As he came into the intersection, he saw what he thought he’d never see in his own city. People who were well and alive, yet they were all fighting and maiming and killing each other with what he noticed right off the bat as Apples. His eyes went wide as he saw it, and immediately grabbed upon the hilt of Caliburn, more specifically it’s ruby gem that was embedded in the knob above the handle. His blue sapphire eyes darted back and forth twice quickly, gauging, and then watching them all very closely. With that he slowly bent his back forward so his legs would distribute the weight evenly as he moved his right leg forward and bent it forward as it was biologically programmed to do. His left leg went back and stood straight, but bent slightly for balance and reserve strength to be used later. His right hand went to his blade’s handle, but did not touch it. It just basically hovered in waiting as his face went expressionless. He watched the groups
of fighting people with the copied Apples closely gauging and trying to judge correctly what he should do. His eyes narrowed suddenly as he saw something. An opening, but he saw the root of the apples and the problem with the rest, but he negated their lives knowing full well, it may do nothing for him and them. Instead, he let go of his blade on his left side, and began running forward, this would no doubt get their attention, but it wasn’t their attentions he cared about. Instead of going all out and attacking them, he only jumped up as he got near them, practically dancing on top of their heads. He knew some of his odd habits would pay off, and he was glad his fence dancing habit did. This worked in his favour as he practically danced over the entire field of them and made sure to disrupt the root apple’s flow, simply by subtly attacking the man with that apple. He did that by prancing on his head, as if to taunt and fool about on his cranium. After that, he leaped off and flipped as high as he could, and luckily ended up grabbing a spires, pointed yet splintered metal that had come out as it had slightly fell over. He used it to pull himself up and then looked around, seeing his only option was inside it through a window, which he had seen earlier, but hoped it might lead elsewhere. Regardless, he climbed into the tower and looked around, only to notice something.-

-The room in this spire was special; he noticed it by the odd patch on the wall. A burn mark, which he walked over to. He looked at his pale skin on his right hand, and then at the burnt spot on the wall. He closed his eyes and only smiled and spoke in his native tongue- “Tichro miniyo tsua winaya siya min’on” (I remember this, this is where I made blood magic.) -he removed his hand from the wall and just in time to notice someone rushing at him. He only had a few seconds, and grabbed his dagger out as quickly as possible in that short amount of time, and caught them in their stomach first, a miracle for him, yet it was all part of his speed training. They immediately realized it, without seconds to think of it. He knew that wasn’t natural, so instead he swung his leg under the individual hoping to catch the person. It didn’t work. The person just pushed him off with his own weight and their hands, yet the individual was only now beginning to feel the pain and loss of blood now. Or was it something else? The person just suddenly fell down to their knees as if something else had happened. Before he knew it, a man walked around the corner, holding a needle in his hand. His hair was jet black, like the villain that had turned the city into Hell on Earth, yet he was different. His face was not contorted by madness or darkness. It was expressionless, and instead of any colourful eyes, his were deep brown, as if he was truly dead. This man only wore a business suit, like the man in the palace, yet it was all black. Black shoes, black pants, black tuxedo, black shirt, black tie, yet only his ksin was pale, like Michael’s. However, Michael was not put off or intimidated easily by his actions and the weapon in his hand and instead of running, he instead looked towards the young man and realized who it was. But he turned his head some and lowered an eyebrow as if to show a questioning expression. He spoke out to the man, with a somewhat cocky attitude, yet
one still filled with emotions.- “Tichra miyi? (Come to kill me?)

-The man with the clear death-oriented appearance spoke himself. He bore a guttural tone, his was deep, yet oddly raspy, as if to embody his nature as a true dead man.- “Digrah.” (No.) Migah minah.” (Follow Me.) -this man of black and death walked Michael through the spire, from top to bottom, to top again. Staircase after staircase. Blowing his way through rooms with his blade and cutting others down like it was nothing. A good half hour had to have passed before he finally got him out of the spire tower, but it wasn’t where he imagined they’d be. Instead of on ground, they were on its rooftop. He showed him in body language where he needed to go and which port to go to. He showed him the places where passages of secrecy lay, that were available only to the Horseman, and told him the ones that were not restricted solely to Nephilim. After having shown him, he told him simply a few words.- “Tichraminon, didrast, ocha masian. (Down, right, and left.) -He spoke no more after and simply stepped backwards into the spire again, and locked the door in front of him, as it was clearly heard. The spire itself however, suddenly jolted and shuddered greatly, and he, Michael, now knew what he meant. The Spire was going to fall now. Michael remembered his words though, and they repeated quite easily. So in tune with that, and in turn for the event to happen, he braced himself as it came. An explosion erupted out pf the spire’s mid-section, and caused the metal to break in chunks in every direction, and in respect to that and the physics of the reality, the spire began to topple backward now. Michael had his chance now. He brought his long blade out, and began running for the ledge. As he did the spire moved backwards, causing him to work harder to get off. Michael himself managed to reach the short wall that encompassed the spires height and rooftop and began running down the spire.

Just as Death had said, Follow, Right, Left. Soon as Michael had gotten on to the wall and began running down it, the structure blew apart, and landed him inside again. He didn’t let this stop him, and instead got right back up and ran out the door. ~Follow.~ He thought. Soon as he had exited the room, he had to follow quickly down the hallway, and for the few seconds he had in running, he came to an intersection. ~Right~ He thought, he ran to his right and followed it through the spire. After a half minute of running, he came to another intersection. ~Left~ He thought, and took his direct left. He kept the passage on track and ran down, only to find a window at its end, and as he looked through it, he could see a rooftop come to view. He shook his head and thought only to himself. ~That crazy bastard.~ He then ran forward and jerked his long blade forward shattering the glass outwards, effectively minimizing damage by the glass to him, and landed safely on the rooftop as the spire hit the corner, which happened just as Michael rolled out of the way. It also began taking a good chunk of the building with it, especially the rooftop, as it had come down with such force it was basically breaking it like glass. He couldn’t stop, he knew it. He kept going, and running, as the townhouse he was on, or rather there scaffolding he was on was coming down fast. He took a risk and jumped off, spotting a haystack in a man cart down below. More than likely left behind by one of the farmers that was on the near outskirts of the island. Though he landed safely in it, he didn’t stop, he got up and quick and ran away from the falling scaffolding. He saw up ahead though…a port! He was nearly there, and he was going to make it. But it also made him suspicious too.

He had no choice though; he was going to get off this island. As he had run towards the port, a cloud of shards and dust came from the spire and the scaffolding. He only had enough time to do one of two things, and what he did, considering he had seen no one at the port was go down on the ground. He did that and his body by a grunting sound as it did. By instinct he brought his hands over his head and braced himself, simply expecting to die, but he didn’t expect to hear what he heard. A loud shrieking cry of some manner. Michael didn’t get up though, not out of fear, but waiting for the dust to settle first.

-When he got up, he first made sure his being was all where it’s suppose to be. His head on his neck, arms there, legs there. Control of the mall well. But he remembered that shriek, and wanted to help. But couldn’t. The port was in sight, and he wasn’t going back, no matter how much he wanted to. Instead he got up, making sure he had his blade, though his dagger was gone now it seemed. Not in his body anywhere, thankfully, but it was missing from a torn holster, which he noticed by the rip on one of his pockets. He simply shook his head and ran down the street, finally coming to the port, where a slightly cracked blue crystal was still floating above the port in its energy readings and holdings, which were positioned dead on its bottom centre. He saw two bodies one he didn’t know the other he did.

Death. He immediately ran over and saw him still alive but wounded greatly. He was frantic, Michael, and tried to comfort him but Death wouldn’t have it. He grabbed him by his rob’s collar and spoke roughly to him through gritted teeth and pain- “Pachrayin, techo wayonin. Micharist pacha ri saiyin! (Ruler! Take my blade, Michael is my host today.) -Death jittered roughly looking at him with piercing pale blue eyes now, something off clearly. But even Michael understood his words. He had known him this long, and even longer before that, and knew if he didn’t his soul was going to evaporate, become nonexistent and become uncreated. He felt for him, he really did, his better senses told him no, but his ambitions wanted his power. But Michael made a decision, and he was going to live with it and pay for it later. He saw Death as a brother to him, and took his request upon him. He did as he said, and took his soul blade off of him, and with Death’s help, wounded his own self on purpose. Almost immediately, all within the near vicinity was blown away. A humongous black beast arose, sided by the black snake, and another, a mere dark man. All three simply gave out mighty roars, guttural and incredibly loud with the power lal present at once, and just as they had, the humongous wave of dark power soon swirled inwards, starting slowly at first. It took not but a minute for it to gain speed and travel inwards steadily faster before coming to him, surrounding him, binding him, and without any apparent means for doing so, an explosion occurred, destroying what was left of the old Death, and assuring the new one in Michael. Michael was only conscious long enough to see the port’s ground fly away for a second or two before blacking out as he was launched away. As he flew further away, the city itself began to shudder and quake the Earth even worse. Which kept going for the time Michael was lost at sea. Over those two weeks, none of the Atlantians knowing where their true Prime Minister was. By many, he was naturally presumed dead, and by the faithful they held he’d turn up, alive, battered and as usual connected to his land’s fate once more. They were proven right. As the last hour of sunlight came upon the planet to the land now known as Japan, the planet suffered an odd but powerful phenomena. The planet’s entirety fell aglow with a green haze. Nicknamed later the “Green Day”, this day they found Michael washed up on its northern island’s shores, which were, at it’s time more iced and less water separated, and began bringing him in before the Green Day occurred. When it did, the locals had just risen him up upon their shoulders to escort him when they saw and felt a few things. The first was the sky, it became green and filled with energy. The next five seconds after the planet shuddered greatly, something in the distance shot a high intensity beam of green energy into the atmosphere. When it did, the Earth began to tremble again, as if to split itself apart, yet the only thing that happened after that was a bright flash which engulfed the entire planet for a few seconds before disappearing along with Atlantis. It befuddled the locals, but it was only the start, but Michael, even in his sleep, had felt it. In his bones he would always be connected to his land, it was part of who he was, and it would never change, regardless of the darkness now dwelling within him.-